Responsibilities
by Feyd-Rautha3
Summary: WARNING FOR NONSEXUAL SPANKING OF A TEEN Robin thinks he can handle a patrol on his own, Batman disagrees. Might make this a series if enough people want more.


*WARNING: SPANKING OF TEENS IN THIS FANFIC*

Richard Greyson sat in the Batmobile, fidgeting nervously. Batman looked incredibly pissed when he ordered him to sit and wait for his return. It wasn't like it was his fault, he hadn't meant to knock that trash can over and alert the drug dealers that he had been listening in on, and he would never have been caught if that hadn't happened. Then again, he wasn't supposed to be hiding in the shadows in that factory... In fact, he wasn't even supposed to be in Gotham that night... especially not on his own... But really, he didn't have a choice. Bruce wouldn't let him go on patrol with him, and if he couldn't go with Bruce, who could he go with? Besides, he was seventeen years old- plenty old enough to handle a small mission like that on his own, ignoring the fact that he was captured. No, the only logical conclusion was that everything was Bruce's fault. He'd understand, wouldn't he?

With a sigh, Dick shook his head and looked at the floor. Who was he kidding? This was Batman he was talking about, Batman never saw things his way. Great.

There was a creak and Dick looked over to see Batman exiting the factory, presumedly after giving the criminals what they deserved and then calling Commissioner Gordon to send someone to pick them up.

Bruce opened the driver's side door and got it, not even acknowledging that Dick was there.

"Batman...""Save it, Robin," he spoke harshly, "I'm not ready to deal with you, yet."

Batman put the keys in the ignition and started the Matmobile up, then began the long drive to the Batcave.

Dick bit his lip and looked out the window. Batman was even more mad than he thought.

The ride was silent and uncomfortable, and Dick was almost glad when they arrived. Almost.

"Go wait for me in your room, Richard." Bruce said as he parked the Batmobile and took off his mask.

Dick flinched on hearing his name. That was never a good sign. "Listen, Bruce... I was only-"

Bruce instantly reached over and smacked the side of Dick's bottom hard. "No, you listen. I am not ready to deal with you quite yet, so you go to your room and wait while I calm down."

Dick groaned and rubbed his butt where he'd been hit. "Yes sir," he mumbled, opening the door of the Batmobile. He took the elevator from the cave to the mansion and trudged to his room, where he began to peel off the Robin suit. He folded it, then changed into civilian clothes, being sure to choose an extra thick pair of pants. He was pretty certain he'd need it.

After about twenty minutes of fretting on the edge of his bed, standing, pacing nervously, and sitting down to fret again, there was a knock on the door.

Dick jumped, then swallowed nervously. "Come in."

Bruce opened the door and walked in. He had changed to his everyday business suit.

Dick sat up straight and scooted further back on his bed until his back touched the wall.

He pulled his knees to his chest protectively. "It wasn't my fault, Bruce, it was an accident."

"An accident?" Bruce scoffed and closed the door behind him. "An accident, Richard? How is you sneaking out of the house an accident?"

"I wasn't sneaking out of the house!" Dick said indignantly, "You never said I couldn't leave!""I said you couldn't go with me, that's the same thing!" Bruce walked over and sat on the bed. "Get over here."

Dick groaned and inched his way over. "It still wasn't my fault..."

Bruce grabbed his upper arm and pulled him across his knee. "Oh it wasn't?" he asked, working his ward's pants down. "Whose fault was it, then? You sneaked out of the house, deliberately to fight crime, as you were in your Robin suit, went into Gotham alone without telling anyone where you were, you tried to break up a drug deal, and you're saying that none of those things were your own choice?"

"Well, no, that's not what I meant..." Dick grabbed his waistband to keep his pants up. So much for choosing the thick pair.

"Then what did you mean?" Bruce pushed his hands out of the way and pulled his pants, and briefs, to rest just below his bottom.

"I meant... Oh, I don't know what I meant anymore," Dick grumbled, crossing his arms. "You confused me."

"Good," Bruce nodded and picked up something that he brought him him.

Dick looked over his shoulder, then his eyes opened wide. "No! Bruce! Please, don't use that!" he panicked and tried to crawl off his lap.

Bruce held him down firmly. "I'd say you deserve it," he scolded, bringing the batarang he had brought with him down across Dick's sit spots with a loud smack.

"Ooow!" Dick wailed and kicked his leg out. "Bruce!"

"Richard, you failed me as Robin just now, do you understand that?"

"Wh-what?" Dick just had time to absorb Bruce's words before he felt another stinging pain in the exact same place as the first. "Gah!"

"How can I trust you as a partner if you go around sneaking behind my back and disobeying me like that? How can I fight crime if, on occasion, I leave you home, then have to worry about whether or not you actually stayed? How can I trust you to fight alongside me if you don't listen to my orders?" Bruce hammered the words into him, hitting his sit spots with each point he made.

"Yaah! Bruce, I'm sorry! Please stop, that hurts!" Dick twisted over his lap and couldn't stop himself from reaching back with both hands to cover his bottom.

"Richard Greyson, you know better than to put your hands in the way. Move them now or you'll get five extra."

Dick whimpered and slowly moved his hands forward again.

"Be sure to keep it there," Bruce warned, then continued. He gave him a total of ten smacks with the batarang, leaving a bright red mark in the shape of a bat on his sit spots.

Dick whimpered and wiped his eyes, thankful that he'd only shed a few tears through that.

Bruce set the batarang aside and put a hand on the small of Dick's back. "I'm not done yet, Dick. That part was for failing to do your duty as Robin, and this next part is for what you did as Richard Greyson. You worried both Alfred and I when we found you were gone. What if you had died? What would I do then? Richard, I think of you as a son, I couldn't bear it if you died. Did you think of that?"

Great, now he felt like crying again. "I'm sorry Bru-ow!"

Bruce began to spank him hard and evenly, alternating between cheeks. He methodically turned Dick's bottom a deep red, ignoring the squirms and protests his ward gave him.

Dick took it back- he wasn't sorry anymore! The pain in his backside was unbelievable!

"Oooow! Bruce, I've learned my lesson! Stop!" He sobbed, large tears rolling down his cheeks.

Bruce waited until he felt his ward go limp, when he stopped fighting. Then he gave his bottom one last smack and let him up.

Dick immediately began rubbing his stinging bottom, hopping from foot to foot.

Bruce hid a smile and took Dick's face in his hands. "Look at me, Richard. I don't like having to do that, but if it means your safety and the safety of Gotham, I will. Don't do something like that again, do you understand me?"

"Yes Bruce," Dick sniffed, looking at him miserably.

Bruce wiped his tears away, then pulled him into a hug. "Good, see that you remember it," he said quietly as he rubbed Dick's back.

Dick resisted at first, then began to cry into his shoulder, not caring how childish he looked any more.

Bruce held him and rocked him slightly as he cried until he hiccupped, then eventually he fell asleep. Bruce smiled and laid him down on the bed. "Goodnight, Richard," he kissed his forehead and left his room, turning out the light.


End file.
